


Where Magic Can Be Real

by ch1ps0h0y



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Magic Kaito, Radiant Historia, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Gen, Multiple Crossovers, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch1ps0h0y/pseuds/ch1ps0h0y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small collection of various one-shot DCMK crossovers and short fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (Fate/-KHR) For a Wish Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A multifandom crossover that I and some friends came up with. Featuring Hibari and Mukuro as Servants, and Kaito and Akako as their respective Masters. This is just a snippet of that world.

On the eve of their clash with the remaining Master and Servant, Akako approached him one last time. She joined him on the grass by their banked fire, kneeling at his side.

"I'll give you one last chance, Kuroba Kaito," she intoned. "Pledge your heart to me and I will spare you when we fight."

She brought with her a smell of cherries and woodsmoke. Kaito let the glow of magic fade from his hands, a deep lapis chip tumbling into his palms upon release. He looked to her, into red eyes which had entranced many a man before him, and let them hold him. Kaito hadn't known why he could resist her allure until she had dragged him into this war. He hadn't realised that was unusual until she had made a point of wondering aloud about his heritage.

They had been tentative allies since the beginning, fighting to take down the other five despite her previous movements against him. Someone saner would have said no and washed their hands of her. Truth be told, Kaito had entertained the thought before agreeing to a truce. But he had chosen to trust her in spite of everything else, and still - still, sometimes he was tempted to throw aside who he was and let her drag him into her arms.

The scent she wore reminded him of a dizzying fall.

A log cracked loudly, shearing through the heavy silence. Now he knew why she smelt of cherries: she had eaten some earlier. He felt the curve of her body pressed against his, the hand rested on his knee, but it was her lips which his thoughts focused on. Soft and pliant, unlike her nature, he found her kiss to be sweeter than expected. Slender fingers slipped into the short, messy strands of hair above his nape as he leaned into the taste. Warmth that did not come from the fire flooded his pores and made every extremity tingle.

There was no magic at work from her this time. That he was sure of. She'd given up such underhanded tricks the first time he'd saved her life.

She drew back to let him breathe and his eyes slid open. Dark eyes like chips of ruby watched him, the muted glow of dancing fire lending them heat. It was only a little distance, one small step between solid ground and a heart-stopping fall into that abyss. He was the only one she couldn't sway with her magic. If he willingly let her thorns prick his heart then there would be no man who could deny her.

It was tempting.

He covered her hand with his own and placed a gentle kiss against the corner of her mouth. He heard her breath catch - hopeful, afraid? - before he spoke.

"You need to be more honest with yourself," Kaito told her quietly. His hand slid away and he sat back, turning away from the disappointed cast to her expression.

He was already concentrating on forming another jewel-like chip of mana when he sensed her rising to her feet. She left without a goodbye but he threw a glance over his shoulder. Her back disappeared into the trees, leaving him alone by the fire.

Across from him, his Servant materialised.

"She'll kill you," Berserker stated in his low, tightly controlled voice. He had made a point of reminding Kaito of this almost every day since the truce had been formed.

"Maybe." His answer attracted a frown from them. In the past, his answer had always been a firm denial.

"Maybe?" they repeated. "When did you finally grow some sense, herbivore?"

A smile flickered, transient as the light which danced between his fingers. "You don't understand girls' hearts, do you?" Another chip fell into his hands. His Servant voiced derision.

"Love is for the weak," they sneered. "Besides, your tricks are nothing compared to Caster's illusions. You have no hope of winning against them."

Kaito's eyes flicked their way. "Oh, really?" he murmured, rolling the mana chip across the back of his fingers. The chip bounced up and he spoke a sharp word. It seemed to vanish in a bright flash of light. A wasted bit of magic? No, the chip reappeared in his other hand.

Berserker wasn't impressed. "It will take more than sleight of hand to fool them. They've seen how you work. This is exactly why you should have let me take care of them from the beginning."

The magician shrugged and tucked the chip away. He had enough to last through the upcoming battle. Hopefully he would have some to spare for the final one. "We'll see," he said.

About to retort, Berserker's head suddenly whipped around. They vanished before Kaito could ask what he'd sensed, leaving the magician alone by the fire. Their curt words filtered through as thought after a short time.

_They're here._

Akako reappeared from amongst the trees moments later, bearing the same news. Kaito stood and kicked dirt over the fire, dousing them in moonlight and shadow. Caster's lone red eye hovered by his Master's shoulder before it hid away with the rest of him. In the near distance: the sound of impact followed by a shudder in the earth, and then two immaterial bodies crashed through the clearing.

Kaito's fist closed over a blue chip. A muttered word sent tendrils of light blue searing up his arm to coalesce as a pale dove on his shoulder. He wasn't the same person he had been when he'd started out. He could face another Master and win.

Their enemy strode out of the settling dust and he and Akako braced themselves to meet them. "Let's see what you've got then," he murmured.


	2. (vampire) Inner Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Phantom Kid is a well-known vampire and Saguru Hakuba is a hunter sent to Japan to hunt him. However, Saguru realises there's more to the Phantom's story when he discovers they're not like other vampires...

The first time Saguru Hakuba met the vampire known as 'Phantom Kid' was at the back of a nightclub.

"Stop!" the British hunter commanded, pointing his revolver at the vampire's back. The girl they were feeding from had already gone limp in their arms but they were still breathing. If he shot the vampire now, the girl might hit her head from the fall.

The vampire licked a stray trickle of blood from her neck and cocked his head in Saguru's direction. The revolver remained trained on the vampire as they slowly knelt, laid the girl gently on the ground, and straightened.

"Why not shoot?" Kid asked him in a murmur.

The bullet Saguru fired sank into a wall the same instant their hand landed on his throat. It was like they had moved before the hunter had even thought of shooting. Saguru found himself frozen in shock, revolver held by rigid fingers.

Kid was dressed in night and shadow, the only glimpse of colour on him being his glittering red eyes. Saguru swallowed as cold breath chased across his pale throat, Kid's curious sniff and caress of his thumb at odds with the precarious position he had placed the hunter in.

"I guess asking for permission is out of the question."

The hunter startled. "Why would you--?"

Kid chuckled and drew back so Saguru could see his face. It was surprisingly youthful, containing the clean lines and unblemished skin of a teenager on the cusp of his adult years. Vampires died and rose again in the same condition as they had been in life, cured of disease and other illness but not the scars they had accrued prior to death. Few, very few, were born to the condition and grew to be beautiful mockeries of humanity, flawless in every physical aspect.

Saguru wondered if Kid was one of the latter.

Voices at the mouth of the alley interrupted them. Saguru turned without thinking and almost didn't feel Kid release him. When he glanced back, all he could see was the dark alley and a peacefully sleeping girl.

 

Her name was Aoko Nakamori, daughter to Ginzou Nakamori of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.

Saguru was surprised to see the girl from last night in his new class but having a familiar face there helped to settle him in. She had a scarf wound around her neck to hide the healing wound left by Kid.

"Thanks for last night," she said to him during lunch, cheeks blushing a faint pink. "I don't really remember what happened."

"Any decent person would have done the same," Saguru demurred. He felt, rather than saw, a third person pop up by his shoulder and fought hard against his instinct to shoot them. He was in school now. It was broad daylight and he was not on duty.

"You really need to be more careful where you walk at night, Aoko!"

Saguru froze. He jerked his head towards the third person and was confronted by a cheerful, smiling boy with messy brown hair and eyes like two drops of frozen water. It wasn't the face that shocked him but rather the voice. Rougher though it was, louder and more uncouth though it was, there was a tinge of familiarity which called him back to last night, the alley behind the nightclub, and Nakamori's pale, sleeping form.

But it was impossible.

"I hear there's been an increase in vampire attacks in the past week," the boy continued, speaking to Aoko. "You shouldn't go off with strangers!"

Sunlight streamed unhindered through the classroom windows. The boy's shadow stretched as long and solid as anyone else's.

"What was your name again?" Saguru asked abruptly, unable to stop staring. Their pale eyes slid his way. A smirk lifted the corners of their lips.

"Kaito Kuroba." The hand they stuck out for him to shake was a little cold, but it was the beginning of winter and not unusual.

Impossible.

 

"You know what a progenitor is, right?" Kid asked him three nights later from his perch on top of a lamp post. Saguru was crouched by a pile of ashes, sifting through the dust for identification.

"Something from which all others originate," the hunter replied, straightening with the former vampire's ashen licence in hand. He tossed a frown at the vampire. "Is that what you are? The genesis of vampire-kind?"

"Nothing so grand." Kid kicked his feet. "But it's by tasting our blood that humans may become vampires." He vanished an instant before Saguru's revolver cracked, ending up at the hunter's shoulder with a tut-tut. "Now that was rude," he chided.

"You fed from your own classmate," Saguru pointed out, thumb clicking another silver bullet into place. "You do not lecture me on proper behaviour."

"I asked first," the vampire sniffed. "She said yes."

Saguru growled, "Was that before or after you hypnotised her?"

Kid threw him a dirty look. "Before. Now put that gun away before you hurt someone. You won't be able to kill me with that."

The hunter did so reluctantly. "You can walk in the sun. How?" He was determined to get _some_ answers from Kid tonight.

The vampire shrugged. "Practice," he said facetiously. His pale eyes flashed to a point in the darkness beyond the lamp's area of light. "Be careful when walking home tonight, hunter," he warned before pulling his vanishing trick again. Saguru was left alone in the chilly silence.

He saw nothing when he swept his eyes around his surroundings. But Kid's eyesight must be better; perhaps he had seen something. In any case, there was no reason not to heed good advice even if it _was_ from a vampire. Saguru only had so much holy water and silver bullets on his person.

The morning after was a weekend so he took the opportunity to research his quarry. As it turned out, Kid was an urban legend known throughout Japan, not just in his hunting ground of Tokyo. Saguru consulted with the local onmyou-exorcist sect and received far more information than he was expecting. Long-lived meant a longer trail left in the past but he still expected an old vampire to be more careful about details such as his identities, age, and so on.

"He lives somewhere in Ekoda," the Head Diviner told him as she handed over a fat file: copies of Kid's record contained under neat headers and some hand-written sticky notes. "The location changes every few years but right now that's where we believe he's based. You'll see past attempts to hunt him and put him to rest ended in failure. The priests gave up about a decade ago."

Saguru flipped to the relevant section to skim the details. "He didn't harm any of them," he noted. She nodded.

"That's right. They were all found sleeping on the steps of their respective temples, bodies unmarked and unharmed." She folded her hands into her sleeves and fixed a shrewd eye on him. "The priests here won't raise a hand against him now. They respect his peaceful ideals. If you plan to go after him, foreigner, you will be on your own."

Saguru thanked her for the information and left in a thoughtful mood. The sun was rising to its midday peak but that didn't stop a certain shadow sliding into place beside him.

"Curious?" a light voice asked as it liberated the heavy file from his hands. Saguru voiced a token protest as the vampire flicked through the first few pages. "Wow, they know quite a bit about me," Kid whistled.

The hunter glanced over his shoulder. The woman he'd spoken to stood in the shadow of the roof's overhang, watching them. He thought he saw her smile before turning around to head inside.

"How does a vampire obtain the goodwill of his enemies?" Saguru was treated to a fey smile and the return of Kid's file. Nothing seemed to be missing.

"How do you think?" was their return query. Then they grinned, looped their arm through his, and tugged him at a breakneck pace down the temple's steep, icy steps. Saguru clean forgot his question in the terror (and thrill) of their run.

 

It was, Saguru decided, Kid's charisma. His charm, his wit, his humour - all rolled together in an endearing package - which made it impossible to fear or hate him. Kid was a carefully crafted persona designed to sneak beneath the defences and undermine them. It started with a rose and an introduction--

"Hi, I'm Kaito Kuroba!" Wink. "Nice to meet you."

\--followed by careful politeness--

"Hey, could you help me with this?"

\--and a disarming smile--

"Thanks, you're a life-saver!"

\--with a dash of roguish behaviour to make you laugh.

"Look, get better locks if you don't want anyone peeking in on you!"

Kid was clever. Saguru realised with slow-growing horror that he'd also grown complacent in his company. He couldn't allow himself to grow attached to his target, yet he was at a loss as to how to avoid Kid's boundless energy both at school and outside of it.

As it happened, the decision was taken out of his hands by circumstance. As the seasons began to turn from frigid winter to warm spring, he couldn't fail to notice Aoko showing up at school with a scarf around her neck even on warmer days. She waved off his concern when he mentioned it and didn't seem fussed about her loss of time or fuzzy memory. She looked shaky though, and sometimes she fell asleep (read: fainted) in class.

He tried to ignore it. Except he knew, sooner or later, that he would have to address the problem at its source. Thus, Saguru told himself it was finally time to put the Phantom to rest and steeled himself for a confrontation after school tomorrow.

Except when he arrived that morning, Kid was absent. Enquiring with Aoko revealed that this was a normal occurrence. Every February the fourteenth, Kaito apparently encountered a horrid run of bad luck. Broken bones, severe illness, etcetera. Misinterpreting Saguru's sceptical look, Aoko was quick to reassure him.

"He's only got a really bad cold this year!" she said, fingering the hem of her scarf. "He's probably in bed right now." She frowned. "Or he should be if he listened to what I said."

Saguru would believe it when he saw it. A casual request for the magician's address was happily fulfilled but he waved off her offer to accompany him to check on Kaito's condition. In fact he even volunteered to deliver the notes she'd taken for him in her stead. They were freely relinquished.

After school, Saguru headed to the address he'd been given and found himself standing outside a house in a well-to-do part of Ekoda. A proper house, not one of a series of high-rise apartment blocks that densely packed the cities. It wasn't as impressive as the Hakuba family home but it was worth a pause and a stare.

He unlatched the gate and stepped past, fastening it behind him. Then he approached the door, rang the bell, and waited for a response.

He had to ring the bell twice more before he heard scuffling behind the double doors. One of them inched open and Kid's pale face peered through the crack.

"Oh, it's you," the vampire said. "How did you...?"

"Aoko."

"...Right." Kid hesitated and then opened the door wider. Saguru took note of his restless eyes and knuckled grip on the knob. No obvious sign of illness however. Vampires didn't fall sick so he hadn't expected there to be any.

Kid continued, "So you're here because...?"

"Notes from today," Saguru said, holding a clear file out. "Aoko's. And," he added, placing his foot in the door in case the vampire intended to shut it on him after taking the file, "I have business with you, Kid. About her."

Kid's pale eyes narrowed. For a moment, it looked like he would choose to eject Saguru from the premises. Then he sighed and motioned for the hunter to step inside. The door clicked shut behind them and Saguru was led inwards once his shoes had been removed.

"Tea?" Kid asked with a gesture to the kitchen. "It's the only thing I keep around."

"No, thank you." Saguru halted, forcing the vampire to turn and face him. A more efficient hunter would have taken him out by now. He shouldn't be feeling reluctance right now. He shouldn't.

"You're feeding too much from Aoko," he stated instead.

Kid's eyes widened and then narrowed in quick succession. "There are several bold assumptions in there," came his flat reply. "Where's your evidence?"

"Are you saying you didn't?" was Saguru's sharp retort. The question resulted in a brooding silence from Kid. "You are despicable."

"She gave her permission," Kid ground out. "Aoko... She isn't--" He bit off the words and turned away abruptly, stalking to the kitchen.

"Isn't what, Kid?" Saguru followed him, intending to wrest the rhyme and reason for his actions from him before he followed his duty. "You think permission excuses what you're doing? She's close to fainting on her feet. If you keep taking from her, she'll become anaemic!"

"What do you care?" Kid snarled, rounding on him. "You're only looking for an excuse to hunt me because of your father! Oh, yes," he laughed humourlessly, seeing Saguru's shocked expression, "I researched you as well. Saguru Hakuba, seventeen, born in England. Your mother died from a vampire attack when you were six and your former caretaker became your legal guardian. You began studying to become a hunter once you hit ten, killed your first vampire when you were sixteen, and a year later your father summoned you back to Japan to deal with me. By then you'd accumulated an impressive fifty kills - including the Bexley Butcher - to your name and were hailed a prodigy."

For the first time since Saguru had known Kid, he saw their fangs bared. They were slender, smaller than the ignorant might expect, wide enough to pierce through to the artery but thin enough that the bloodflow wouldn't overwhelm the vampire's mouth. He found his gaze riveted on those teeth while Kid threw the pieces of his history in his face. When the rant was over, Saguru drew himself up into a stiff, indignant pose.

"Are you done?" His tone was cold.

Kid opened his mouth. Before he could speak, a spasm took hold and a hand shot up to clutch his chest. The vampire doubled over with a gasp and slapped a hand against the kitchen bench. A glare kept Saguru from approaching.

"Go. Now," Kid growled. A second convulsion wrested a muffled cry from him. He spat out a curse and then shouted at Saguru, "Leave!"

Saguru's hand hovered near his belt. He couldn't tell if it was a genuine ailment or a ploy to send him away. Either way, it was too good an opportunity for any hunter to pass. Hesitation caused him to stay his hand though, and so it was he failed to notice the sanguine hue seeping into his surroundings.

By the time he did, it was too late to escape. Saguru found himself frozen, only able to watch as deep scarlet consumed every surface, every colour, every shade. Only Kid was immune and he slid to the tiled floor with a thud, face twisted, sweat beading his brow. His hand was clenched in a rictal fist over his heart. What was going on?

Out of the blood-tinted shadows stepped a lithe woman with long black hair and crimson eyes. A sheer, red gown hugged her figure, flowing like air as she walked. _Vampire_ was Saguru's first instinct, but somehow she gave off an impression that she was...something else. He watched as she knelt beside Kid and caressed damp locks of his fringe out of his eyes. She cradled his head like a lover and crooned to him.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Saguru's stomach churned at the sickly sweet tone. His mind rebelled and yet his body yearned. "Another year has passed, Prometheus. I would have your answer."

_Prometheus?_ He watched Kid shiver in his foetal position and Saguru found the strength to move his jaw.

"What...are you...doing...?" Her eyes lifted and Saguru found further words dying in his throat. Hers was the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Smooth, elegant, devoid of any imperfection. The long hair which framed her face hung like gossamer, floating when she brushed it over her shoulder and rose to cup his face in a hand. Heat rose to his cheeks, deepening to a flush when she smiled.

"This one still recognises my beauty." She turned back to Kid and the charm faded. "Yet _you_ continue to deny it."

Kid's eye cracked open. Between dry, desperate pants, he said hoarsely, "I'm not a fool, not like my brother. He accepted you and we paid the price for it. I will never, ever let you have my heart, witch."

Saguru couldn't see her face to know her reaction. He could feel it however: a cold blast that swept through his soul chillier than an ice-flecked wind. She knelt by Kid again and traced the tip of one slender finger down his cheek. As she did, Kid convulsed and screamed.

"Feel the flames you once stole from the gods, thief," the woman intoned over Kid's writhing. "Their teeth will gnaw your bones and their hands will give no pleasure. You will never know heat, nor the transience of humanity." She leaned down, whispering against his ear. "All that you take must be freely given. All love is as ashes, affection as dust. Such will be your life."

The next thing Saguru knew, he was waking on the cold floor of Kid's kitchen. All colour had returned, monochromes yielding to the cobalt-grey of late evening rather than that unnatural red. Of the woman, there was no sign.

Across from him, the vampire's motionless body lay crumpled and slack. Saguru forced himself up and crawled over. "Kid," he croaked, reaching to shake his shoulder. He snatched his hand back quickly. The vampire's body was deathly cold.

Kid stirred. His eyelids flickered. Blood red.

Saguru reared back but Kid slammed him to the floor. His skull rang from impact, the room skewed, and then the vampire's cold breath and teeth were pricking his throat. Only the edge of his silver knife, hastily, clumsily drawn, stayed Kid's fangs. Or so he thought.

"Please..."

It was a hoarse whisper. Kid trembled against him, instinct restrained by force rather than will. "Please," Kid begged again, and Saguru was shocked to hear the desperate, broken cast to the word. He gently eased them off him so he could sit up and the vampire whined. Their fingers scrabbled at his shirt and their nose buried itself in the crook of his shoulder. But it didn't seem to be his scent they were interested in. They were fixated on the warmth of his skin.

_Could it be...?_ The knife slid from his grip. Saguru lifted a hand and rested it on the back of Kid's head. He steadied his resolve with a deep breath. "You can take it," he said quietly.

A sob of relief. Their chilly hand slid down the other side of his neck and Kid's head angled to find a vein. The next moment, two fangs slid deep into the side of his throat and Kid began to drink like a man dying of thirst.

Saguru choked on the pain. His fingers tightened in Kid's wild brown hair and instinct screamed at him to rip the vampire away. Then a haze fell over his thoughts and soothed him to complacency. He found his muscles slackening, head lolling back while Kid drew mouthful after mouthful of his life away. Hypnosis, he thought distantly.

It felt like eternity before the fangs retracted. In reality it took just over five minutes. Kid's body had regained some colour and warmth but not enough to pass for healthy - just enough to take the edge off starvation. The vampire's tongue laved his puncture wounds shut with almost tender care. A kiss was pressed over the spot and then they sat back.

"Thank you," Kid said quietly. His irises had regained their pale blue hue.

Saguru shook his head, struggling out of the hypnotic trance he had been placed under. "What--" he began.

"Kaito? Are you alright?" Aoko Nakamori stepped into the kitchen and halted at the sight of them sitting together on the tiled floor. "Hakuba? Kaito...?"

Saguru tried to rise and offer an explanation but Kid placed a hand on his shoulder and easily kept him down. "He provided for me." Kid sent the hunter a grateful smile. "You needn't offer yourself again, Aoko."

Saguru gaped. "She- She knows?" he exclaimed at the same time Aoko squeaked her own surprise. They stared at each other while Kid snickered.

"Did you think I was that callous?" He patted Saguru's cheek. "I wasn't lying when we first met."

"I'm his blood bag!" Aoko proclaimed. Kid wrinkled his nose.

"No such thing," he chided, holding out his hand to her. She took it and allowed him to guide her to kneel beside them. He kissed the back of it when she sat. "Don't demean your worth."

Saguru glanced between the pair as they began to banter. He felt inexplicably like the third wheel all of a sudden. They were clearly friends in spite of the gap between their species.

Aoko smacked Kid on the head, huffing at something he'd said, and Saguru found himself smiling. Maybe he could let this one go.

 

Head Diviner Misato Haneda was directing a sweeping of the temple grounds when she spotted a trio of teenagers cresting the entrance steps. One was a stranger; one was a boy she had met a few months ago; the other she had only seen from a distance. His aura marked him out immediately to her eye - and not a few others. Before panic could be raised, Misato decided to intercept them on the path to the shrine.

"Good morning," she greeted. They chorused the same with varying levels of enthusiasm and bowed. Her eyes flicked over the boy with wild brown hair as they straightened.

"We're here to see a doctor," the boy she knew, Saguru, told her.

If they were here, the doctor they wanted was not one who dealt with common medical ailments. She inclined her head towards the temple. "Inside."

"Thank you." He turned to the other boy. "We won't be long, Kaito." Saguru took the girl with him, leaving Misato alone with the second boy.

They clasped their hands behind their back, eyes lowered. Deference or wariness? She took a step towards him and noted how his shoulders tensed.

"You look younger than your pictures reveal," she commented. And then more gently, "The curse you bear is a heavy one."

His head shot up and his startled gaze met hers. Before he could speak, she rested a hand over his heart, where an aggressive red energy had gathered.

"Even with my skill, I don't think I could remove its hold on my own," she said sadly. "But a circle of us perhaps..."

His breath caught. Longing and hope and despair chased themselves across his face. Yet in the end he shook his head. "I've had that offer in the past," he told her in bitter tones. "The last time I accepted help, I spent half a century asleep in an English tomb and woke in the aftermath of an air raid."

Her heart clenched for hearing it. She inclined her head. "Then I won't press the matter," she said. "Know, however, that the offer is there should you change your mind."

There was no reply from him. She left him to his thoughts, content to stand in silence until his friends returned. The wind was warm and blew streams of pale pink sakura petals across the pebbled ground. He seemed enchanted with the sight although he must have seen it many times than she.

Saguru and the girl came out in time. The hunter took one glance, noted the mood, and asked, "Did he behave?"

Misato laughed and then laughed harder seeing the vampire twitch. "Like a deer."

It was a pity none of them saw the pun. In fact the young man seemed confused.

"Well, thank you again. We'll take our leave now." Saguru ushered the other two along in front of him. Kaito and the girl began to bicker almost as soon as they moved off, something about him being scared. Misato watched them until they had passed under the _torii_ gate before she tipped her head up to offer a prayer to the heavens.

"May those two ease his lonely heart," she murmured.


	3. (Death Note) Different Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Saguru feels like they've danced this dance before.

It's not the nascent sense of familiarity you feel that stokes your interest in his case. It's the arrogance, the boldness, the way he makes an open mockery of those that chase him and slips out of your reach when you close in. The smile, you think, is out of place on his light-hearted visage, but you also can't help but admire how well it sits beneath his gleaming glass eye and the shadowed brim of his top hat as he stands upon the balcony above you.

When he spreads his wings and leaps into the too-strong gale - a tiny dove braving nature to escape the claws of a hawk - you watch as he spins wildly and comes crashing back to earth with an odd smile on your face and a certainty that you'll meet him again, soon.

And you do: in class the next day. He's seated at the spot you always used to occupy ( _used to?_ ), watching you introduce yourself to the class. It's odd to see expressions play upon his face like an open cinematic reel. Anger, lechery, suspicion, and all colours of playful glee. You remind yourself that he has always been unashamedly childish and then wonder where the thought came from. You and he have only known each other for a night and a day.

The only thing which genuinely surprises you about him is the cleverness of his fingers but even _that_ is only mild disbelief.

He is different yet the same. He is familiar and yet a stranger. His intellect and charm wraps its neat little threads around you and pulls you to him, like the steel links that he slips out of time and time again. 'Charismatic' is the term given to people like him, you know, but that doesn't lessen his effect on you.

Yet the grinning caricature of his alter ego feels wrong somehow. Like too many spidering lines and too much teeth. White static and the looming threat of bold lettering clash with his carefree smile and wild, dark brown hair. You should be afraid of that smile, but it's warm and open and your eyes and thoughts can't help but stray to it.

Your pen taps against your notebook. It's only when the end of period bell sounds that you realise you haven't written a single word.

The police station isn't filled with serious older men and it's entirely the wrong department, you think, the first time you step into the Kid Task Force offices. Ginzou Nakamori shouts obscenities with the gusto of a dock worker and rips into documents with careless force. He throws them in your face by accident and you decide to interpret that as your welcome to the force.

It's funny, but you seem to remember a different layout and a different mood. Your eyes stray numerous times down the corridor with an arrow pointing to Homicides, but your feet take you to Organised Crime. At least there's the comfort of your father's influence to cling to. That much is the same.

Your next meeting with _him_ is centred on a bronze statue easily twice the height of a man. Using a chain to affix the base to the floor feels like a bit of cheek on your part but you think (you know) that he'll appreciate the touch afterwards. You are, after all, two sides of the same, bright coin.

Waking up to the taste of sleeping gas on your tongue is an unpleasant experience and your next attempt to chain him down echoes in your ears like a forgotten memory. He's not happy but you don't care. Not until his doppelganger descends and the lights go out.

Impossible.

Your pursuits take you to the edge of many a tall dancefloor, where the wind and distant sirens play music for his waltz. When the door at the top of the roof stairwell opens, he pirouettes on the ball of his foot to greet you. Often with a smile and a flash of glitter in his palm.

"Here we are again," he says. His cape streams like a flag off to the side. You always worry a strong gust will blow him off, like a sheet of paper. "Can you catch me, detective?"

Shouts and pounding feet echo behind. You both know you only have a few seconds before witnesses arrive. You step forward with determination in your eye. He doesn't move although you place yourself within reach.

"Why?" you ask yet again. You hear the echo of it stretching back to you, emptying into the night sky. "Why do you steal?"

He answers with teeth and a secret in his eye. The police thunder through the door and he's gone.

He leaves behind a card:

_It's your turn to do the footwork, Mr Detective._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea behind this is that the voice actors of Kaito and Saguru in MK1412 also voiced L and Light respectively in Death Note. While I acknowledge that chronologically Death Note was published after Magic Kaito, the 'reincarnation' idea stuck.


	4. (Fate/-KHR) For a Wish Come True (cont.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See [this chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329017/chapters/14501272) for the start. Didn't plan on writing more, but how could I refuse my friend? Enjoy~

"It's done."

The final Servant dissipated in a cloud of mana, their soul called back to the Grail. Kaito stood over the senseless body of that Servant's Master - a man whom he had only ever known as "Snake's boss" - while he shakily dialled for the police.

Beside him, his own Servant kicked the unconscious body and sneered.

"You're making a mistake leaving this herbivore alive," they continued. Silver eyes burned into his back as he delivered his anonymous tip through the quavering voice of a generic middle-aged woman. "We need to burn them and everything else to the ground."

Kaito ended the call and turned to Berserker. "No. They should be brought to justice. They need to be tried by the courts in the public eye."

Berserker snorted. But before he could utter another word, resounding footsteps approached them, the silhouette of a man with long, blue hair following them out of the pitch-black woods shortly after. Their tasteless flair for the dramatic was emphasised by the lack of hard flooring upon which their footsteps could echo upon.

"My Master bids me to inform you that our partnership is at an end." The Servant smirked broadly, eyes fixed on Berserker in particular. "She has graciously allowed you this night and the next day as a reprieve. However, tomorrow at sunset, we will be enemies."

Berserker lunged at them but they vanished before he could grab so much as a strand of their long hair. Laughter echoed about them, through the trees and across the wind. They reappeared further away.

"Not yet, Kyouya. Not yet." And then they disappeared in truth this time, leaving behind a bewildered Kaito and his fuming Servant.

"She's really going to, isn't she..." Kaito stared at the empty spot Caster had vanished from.

"I told you: there can only be one victor. Do you regret your choice now?" Berserker sneered as the fires of madness subsided from his eyes.

The magician stared back evenly. "No."

Snorting, his Servant spun abruptly on their heel and stalked off. "We're leaving, herbivore. You need to prepare."

Kaito cut in. "Actually--" All of a sudden Berserker was nose to nose with him and he froze.

"Are you going to forfeit?" the taller man asked, voice dangerously soft. "Now? After everything that's happened?"

Kaito swallowed. Berserker were doing it again, radiating that aura which made his knees want to fold beneath him, cowering like a rabbit at the feet of a dangerous predator. He clenched his shaking hands and met the Servant's steely gaze.

"I don't have any wish I'd want granted," he whispered, forcing them past trembling lips. "All I ever wanted was to catch the ones who killed my dad. We've done that. So it's over."

Berserker bared his teeth at Kaito. The younger man expected his Servant to lay into him with some withering insult. Perhaps increase the aura of dread rolling off them to cow him into this final battle. He tensed, expecting _something_ to happen to him, as Berserker gave him a long, hard stare before rocking back on their heels.

"Fine." Kaito's mouth fell open. Berserker swiftly interrupted. "But I WILL fight Rokudo before all this ends. I will not let you forfeit before then."

"Remind me again who the Master is here--"

"If you do not follow my instructions," Berserker interrupted coldly, "then I may as well die here. It would be simpler. You can resign after I win."

Kaito pressed his lips together. He could tell his Servant would tolerate no argument. "...Fine."

Satisfied, Berserker spun on his heel and strode away from the site. Kaito could hear the faint overlay of approaching police sirens. Releasing his pent-up breath, the magician took one last look at the blasted site and the unconscious man tied up in the centre of it all before booking it after his Servant.

Under his breath, he muttered, "What's the point of resigning after you win, though?"


	5. (FMA) For Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, he should have known that Pandora - the 'Stone of Life' - was synonymous with the more common 'Philosopher's Stone'.

It was a summer night like any other summer night before it. The saturated heat clung to the pores of one teenage boy, sprawled on his bed with the covers thrown wide and the windows and door of his balcony room shut tight. He should have been asleep. He had school tomorrow and the digital display on his bedside shone a reproving 11:18. Yet sleep would not come.

It had rained earlier that day. Past the drawn curtains lay a city drenched in natural sweat, petrichor overridden by the stench of modern life: of exhaust and refuse. He could smell it in here. He had left the balcony door open a sliver and the scent trickled in like a self-conscious lover, hesitant to grace his nose.

11:24. He shifted on the bed, rolled on to his side and clutched his pillow as he watched the clouded sky shift with agonising leisure. He was alone in this household. His father, deceased; his mother, travelling the world to escape an empty, joyless home. Two stories and ten years of memories and laughter stifled by absence.

Come on, he thought desperately. Please...

Twenty-two minutes later, the clouds granted his silent wish. They slowly parted, and at long last a brilliant shaft of moonlight fell across the teenager's bed, cutting a jagged line across his cheek.

His breath caught. It was a perfectly round orb, fat and full with the sun's reflected rays. Hypnotised by its brilliance, he rose from his bed and gravitated to the sliding doors, pushing them and the drapes aside so that he could bask tonight's prize in the glow.

The brighter the light, the darker the shadow, and the shadows which loomed out of his sodden backyard were dark indeed.

"Not enough, is it?"

An insidious whisper from the night. Two glowing pinpricks of red, like the distant silhouette of Mars he could not currently see, hovered at his back. Temptation laid a hand on his shoulder and its words caressed his ear.

"Take it," the voice hissed. Like drops of water falling upon hot coals. Like a thousand ball bearings rattling against steel. "Keep it."

His fist wrapped about the gem, hiding its bloody glow from the world. It shook as he brought the precious stone to his chest. Finally. Finally--

The light disappeared and his head shot up in alarm. But it was just an errant cloud obscuring the moon. He glared at it and the voice chuckled. Unseen arms embraced him and the words continued to purr.

"Can you give it up? The thrill? The chase? The fans cheering your name...?"

Of course, he thought. But--

"But," the voice interjected, "it won't be the same. Even the largest stage in Vegas ain't big enough for you. Not compared to the _world_. Kid's name makes headlines all over the globe. You're a star that deserves a better place to shine than some polished theatre with a bunch of armchair critics." The voice rumbled with laughter. "Right?"

Aoko--

"She doesn't know," it whispered. "And she won't ever know. Besides, it's too late, isn't it? To get back that friendship you two once had."

It would take a blind fool not to notice the cooling interest in her eyes whenever she looked his way these days. More focused on her study, more serious about her future, more determined than ever to follow in her father's footsteps and put away the thief who had broken her family. Not the same, hot-headed girl he had first fallen in love with.

Nor was he the same bright, optimistic boy with his eyes fixed on a distant star.

"Drink it."

He stared at the stolen jewel. As it lay in his palm, the clouds parted briefly and filled his hands with an iridescent pool of light. Weightless as gravity yet as deep as an ocean trench. He found himself leaning forward, and when his lips touched the surface of the light a cold shock went through his body. It tasted cold, slid down his throat like ice, before settling in his stomach like a shard of glass.

He fell against the railing with a gasp, whimpering as the pieces which made him HIM cracked a hundred ways. The sediment bore itself away through his bloodstream, congregating at the beating organ within his chest. It was like being shot all over again. His heart palpitated and, without warning, stopped for several brief seconds--

Then the pieces fled, stealing away to the farthest tips of his fingers and toes where they settled, leaving his extremities tingling with neither warmth nor chill. His heart began to beat again.

The thief slumped to the ground with a gasp. Something had changed. He couldn't say how he knew any more than any bird could claim to consciously know when and where to migrate. He simply knew: he had changed.

A dark chuckle accompanied his attempts to rise to his feet. Avarice gave him a smile full of razor teeth.

"Now, what say we light the night on fire, eh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt given by a friend. Greed inhabits this particular fragment of Stone.


	6. (Radiant Historia) Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That could be me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this image](https://images.plurk.com/4WalrWnHaDWgV4VOI0Ns.jpg) as a prompt.

There is a tale folks tell about the old, tin shack in the middle of a dying prairie. A former scrap yard, cleaned up and made pretty for the sole occupant who had moved in one day unannounced with emotional baggage heaped high in the back seat of their car and a dog that looked like it had seen the war. They had pulled up beside a gutted semi listing amidst the rusted skeletons of a bygone technological age, had burrowed into the heart of the aluminium mountain and never left since.

He finds them in the graveyard when he arrives, pulling apart twisted sheets and sorting steel from aluminium from plastic. Laying each one to rest like a priest performing funerary rites. There are miles and miles of empty plain cut by a single, dusty pair of tracks leading back to the horizon, but in his eyes they are one foot from the grave.

He catches them off-guard at the business end of a gun. The dog is too tired to speak while its owner does not even try. Three pairs of exhausted eyes meet across the barrel: one worn, one cold, and one too old.

Silence but for the hollow requiem of the wind easing past metal. It brings the smell of dried grass and a promise of rain. Too late for this parched land. Too late.

The gun is lowered. He takes a knee, stares into a pair of ancient, ancient blue eyes, still somehow bright with youthful lustre even as the face around it sags from the weight of time. And as he does, he thinks to himself, "That could be me."

Because they are both running on borrowed time. One soul too old for the vessel, and the other with a vessel too old for its soul. Like histories scrawled out of order, like a film reel spliced into chaos. Fragments of linear time stretched then snapped into halves and stuffed into the wrong bodies.

He shoots the man. Recovers the jewel from their corpse while the dog watches on and tries to ignore how its bloodied hue seems to bleed past the surface of his skin. He can feel the grip of time pulling him back through the stars to an inky ocean of potential worlds. Then his boots hit the solid floor of a wooden deck and he opens his eyes to the hopeful woman waiting for him at the bow.

"So, how did it go, Stocke?" she asks. Her eyes widen. "You're bleeding...!"

"It's nothing." He passes her the jewel. It ceases to glow once out of his hands. "Here."

She takes it reverently, folding it into her palms so that all he can see is a glitter of what could be. "Thanks. Another A-plus from me. Get some rest," she tells him, smiling.

He nods, turns away from her and tiredly eyes the glowing beacon further down the deck. He thinks back to those bright, blue eyes and their acceptance of the end and he wonders: what tales will they tell of him and this dying land? Will he one day lose their war against the encroaching desert, find himself trekking through the gravesand of a recent age while seeking out a crumbling refuge to lay his chronic efforts to rest?

He shakes his head and touches the hovering book before him. Closes his eyes once more as he is pulled into a world of white rather than black.

It will work out. It has to.


End file.
